


Pork Chops

by x119



Category: Battle Royale - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, i dont even know, things i wrote under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8606866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x119/pseuds/x119
Summary: Hiroshi loses his eggs. Kazuo wants to know why the fuck it smells like pork chops in here.





	

“There’s been a disaster!” Hiroshi screamed, entering the top secret Kiriyama Family clubhouse crotch first. “My eggs have disappeared!”

“Holy fuck!” Mitsuru cried, falling off of the couch in excitement. He climbed back into his seat and straightened his jacket, though otherwise acted as if nothing had happened. “We gotta find those fuckin’ eggs.”

“Those eggs were my life,” Hiroshi sobbed, burying his head in his hands.

“Smells like pork chops in here,” Kazuo observed at the most inopportune moment. The rest of the guys fell silent, waiting for their great leader to continue. Hiroshi stifled a sob and sniffled quietly during the pause.

“Why does it smell like pork chops in here,” he continued, dark eyes roaming over the other occupants of the room, checking for pork chops.

“More like pork chops and self-loathing,” Sho quipped, tilting his head towards Mitsuru.

“Frig off Sho,” Mitsuru huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I didn’t even have pork chops today, you idiot. And self… looting… what the fuck does that even mean?”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot!” Ryuhei cackled from the other side of the couch. Mitsuru frowned in contempt, though he couldn’t have named that feeling himself. Sho began to giggle between the two of them, only widening Mitsuru’s frown.

“You know what, you deformed elf-looking motherfucker?” Mitsuru spat, leaning over Sho to get in Ryuhei’s face. Sho frowned and made a tiny noise of disgust as Mitsuru’s hand touched his thigh.

“Your fish sticks suck ass,” Mitsuru finished with a hostile smile.

“Don’t diss my fuckin’ fish sticks!” Ryuhei countered, also clambering over Sho’s body in an attempt to punch Mitsuru in the nose. The other boy dodged the attack and the blonde’s fist collided with the questionable fabric of the couch.

“I made that shit for you! I put in fuckin’ effort!” Ryuhei continued. He climbed over Sho’s lap and threw several more punches, finally knocking Mitsuru onto the side table, the old furniture groaning under the weight of his body. Ryuhei had his fist raised and was about to deal another blow in honour of his fish sticks when Kazuo finally spoke up.

“No fighting in the top secret club house,” he quietly reprimanded. “You’re going to break that table. Then you’ll have to steal another one from the dump. It’s not worth the effort.”

“You got this furniture from the fucking dump?!” Sho shrieked, jumping out of his seat and knocking Ryuhei onto the floor with a thud. Mitsuru helped him up, the fish stick incident already forgotten.

“Yes,” Kazuo affirmed, pushing himself across the room in his large wheeled office chair, propelled by one impeccably stylish foot. “Mitsuru and I went dumpster diving together.”

“Why didn’t you invite me?!” Sho cried disdainfully. Kazuo merely shrugged in response.

“I didn’t deem it necessary,” he answered plainly. Sho pouted and took his seat once again, avoiding Mitsuru’s satisfied stare.

“Why aren’t we talking about my eggs?!” Hiroshi wailed, surprising shutting everyone else up for a moment. All eyes were suddenly on him and he had no idea what to do; he had never gotten any attention before.

“Uh, I mean, I just really want to find them,” he continued slowly, “because they were the freshest eggs I ever had!”

“Well, I don’t care about that at all,” Kazuo answered, “but I don’t have any other plans for today, so let’s do it.” The other three nodded in affirmation, much to Hiroshi’s delight.

“Thanks guys!” he said with a beaming smile. “You’re the best friends I’ve ever had!” Hiroshi held his arms open for a group hug, but no one took the bait. Mitsuru even shoved him out of the way as he walked past (totally unnecessary), and then Ryuhei pantsed the poor boy, running away while screaming like a banshee.

Hiroshi sobbed quietly to himself as he pulled his pants back up, shuffling out of the top secret clubhouse smelling like pork chops and self-loathing.

——-

“How the fuck do you draw eggs?” Mitsuru complained, staring at the oblong shapes he had drawn on his “Missing Egg” poster. Ryuhei was staring at the paper from over his friend’s shoulder, eyeing the lumps with repulsion.

“These eggs ain’t right, that’s for sure,” Ryuhei answered, pointing at one strange looking egg near the top of the page. “This isn’t even close, it’s a fuckin’ square.”

“Well how do I fix it, you asshole?” Mitsuru demanded, waving his uncapped marker around in front of Ryuhei’s face, as if that would help improve his artistic skill.

“Quit it!” Ryuhei growled with a harsh strike at the taunting marker. It fell from the other boy’s hand and landed felt tip down, right in the middle of a disfigured egg.

Both of the boys looked down in horror at the sullied egg portrait, unsure of the best course of action. They gazed at each other, bewildered, for a few more moments. Slowly, it became difficult to turn away; each was becoming hopelessly lost in the others’ eyes. Mitsuru made the first move, leaning forward and whispering sensually in Ryuhei’s ear:

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Fuck off!” Ryuhei squealed, shoving Mitsuru out of his chair and sending him crashing to the floor. With the other boy out of the way, he grabbed the marker and began to scribble ferociously all over the poster and the rhombus-shaped eggs.

“What are you doing to my god damn eggs, you shit weasel?!” Mitsuru flailed on the ground, unceremoniously rising from the floor with much more effort than seemed necessary. When he saw what Ryuhei had done to his poster, he absolutely lost it. All that hard work, destroyed; ruined at the hands of a small imp who probably belonged in a zoo. What would Hiroshi think of him? Wait, he actually didn’t care about that. More importantly, what would Kazuo think of him? He had asked Mitsuru to do this simple task, but it turned out that he was so pathetic and stupid that he couldn’t even draw an egg. He agonized over the thought of not being able to provide Kazuo with a perfect egg poster, dramatically falling to his knees smelling like pork chops and self-loathing.

“I’m sorry I let you down, Boss!” Mitsuru cried to the heavens. Surprisingly, he got a response.

“Yes, you ruined everything,” Kazuo answered from above, standing over Mitsuru while cradling an egg shaped object. Sho was next to him, clearly very amused by Mitsuru’s outburst.

“Lucky for you fuck ups, Kazuo-kun and I found a perfect solution!” Sho burst out loudly and excitedly before Mitsuru had a chance to speak. Kazuo cleared his throat and all eyes were suddenly on him.

“Don’t lie to them, Sho,” he said, dark gaze fixed on the egg thing in his hand. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Fucking rude,” Sho mumbled with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“My master plan is almost complete,” Kazuo began again. He presented the egg, which appeared to be wrapped in some sort of foil. “This is a much improved egg. Where is Hiroshi? He must consume it before me.”

“I’m right here,” Hiroshi spoke up, waving from where he sat on the other side of the top secret clubhouse. “I’ve been here the whole time, I can’t believe you guys didn’t - ”

“Stop talking,” Kazuo commanded. Hiroshi obeyed immediately, a fearful look in his eyes. “Come to me. Eat this egg I have procured for you. It is vastly superior to your former eggs.”

Hiroshi complied silently, rising from his seat and waddling nervously across the room. Kazuo stood completely still, staring the other boy down while he held the foil covered egg in his outstretched hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ryuhei whispered to Mitsuru, who was observing the strange phenomenon with great interest. He elbowed the blonde garden gnome to get him to shut up just in time to see Hiroshi take the egg from Kazuo’s hand. He stared at it in awe for a moment before Kazuo spoke again.

“Unwrap it,” he said. “You may be… surprised.”

Hiroshi began to pull away the foil, revealing the dark, smooth surface underneath. His curiosity growing, he quickly removed all the foil with his chubby little fingers, licking the outside of the egg to test its hidden flavours.

“This is a chocolate egg?” Hiroshi asked, completely dumbfounded. Mitsuru and Ryuhei were equally amazed that something as zany as chocolate eggs existed. Sho was filing his nails in the corner.

Excited beyond belief, Hiroshi immediately shoved the entire chocolate egg into his mouth. He was such an expert egg eater that he could eat up to three eggs at one time. It was theorized by Kazuo that this ability developed in case of egg shortages; that way, Hiroshi could hold a large amount of egg in his mouth at one time and save some for times of need.

As he chewed, he began to realize that something about this egg was horribly wrong. Instead of a luscious yolk, the middle of this egg contained what felt like a plastic capsule of some kind. He bit down on it experimentally, breaking the thing open and spreading tiny plastic parts throughout his oral cavity. Some reached the back of his throat and made him gag.

“This will be your last egg, Hiroshi,” Kazuo stated, filling the pit of Hiroshi’s stomach with an ominous dread. “This is a Kinder Surprise Egg, and it contains many choking hazards. There’s no way you have the oral dexterity not to choke. You have the skills of a small child. You’re going to die.”

Hiroshi panicked, his mouth full of chocolate and plastic, tiny pieces of the stuff grating against places it shouldn’t. He gagged and heaved over and over, slowly coming to the realization that it was getting harder to breathe. He scratched at his throat in desperation, falling to his knees, crawling across the floor towards his friends.

All except Kazuo stared on in horror as he continued to gasp and spit liquid chocolate out of his mouth, his feeble crawling achieving less and less with every second. He let out several more choked gasps before he fell silent and still, his head resting facedown in a puddle of chocolate.

“Uh, is he okay?” Mitsuru asked fearfully, looking to Kazuo for some sort of answer. He took a few quick strides to the side of Hiroshi’s body, kneeling down and pressing his fingers to the dead boy’s chocolate covered jugular.

“No, he’s dead,” Kazuo answered when he failed to feel a pulse. He stood and walked briskly over to the couch, sitting down quietly on the middle cushion and folding his hands in his lap. No one else knew what to say.

“You can go if you like,” Kazuo said, his gaze turning away from Hiroshi’s body to meet Mitsuru’s for a brief moment. “I’m just waiting for something.”

“You, uh,” Mitsuru said nervously, approaching Kazuo with tentative footsteps, “you did this on purpose?”

“Yes,” Kazuo answered, “there’s something I need to find out.”

Before Mitsuru could ask more questions, Hiroshi violently voided his bowels as a lovely post mortem gift. Sho screamed and ran outside, unable to stomach any more gross shit that day. Ryuhei stayed behind for a moment, though when the rancid smell finally hit him, he followed Sho out the door.

Kazuo rose from the couch and made his way back to Hiroshi’s body, seemingly unfazed. Mitsuru joined him, tears brimming in his eyes as he covered his nose with his shirtsleeve,

“Well, I was right,” Kazuo said. Mitsuru raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but Kazuo was too busy staring at the disgusting pile of human waste beneath him.

“Hiroshi was the one who ate the pork chops,” he finished, sounding quite satisfied with himself.

Mitsuru stared at him, absolutely dumbfounded and horrified. He lowered his sleeve and couldn’t do a thing to hide the utter look of despair on his face.

“Why didn’t you just ask him?!” He cried, grabbing Kazuo by the shoulders and shaking him violently, finally prying his gaze away from Hiroshi’s body. He looked slightly stunned from Mitsuru’s reaction, but shrugged his shoulders, cocking his head to the side dismissively.

“I didn’t think of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> rip hiroshi every time


End file.
